


Too Many UnSubs

by PorkWig



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Captivity, Gen, Humor, Non-graphic reference to cannibalism, Non-graphic reference to eating cute animals, Satire, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 01:52:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8647258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorkWig/pseuds/PorkWig
Summary: Sometimes multiple UnSubs have to share a workspace.





	

The unsub held a gun to Penelope Garcia’s head as he guided her down the basement stairs.

“You don’t have to do this,” she pleaded. “Just let me go. My friends and I will make sure you’re treated fairly.”

The unsub laughed. “That’s what they _all_ say.”

On entering the enormous and dimly-lit basement, Penelope gasped. There were other people here. Other people being held captive and tortured. By other unsubs.

“Garcia?” A voice called from nearby shadows. A series of wet coughs. “Garcia, is that you?”

That voice... It couldn’t be...

Penelope’s unsub stubbed his toe on a chainsaw that lay on the floor. “Fuck! I keep telling you guys to leave the fucking lights on enough so I can see!” He adjusted the light-dimmer knob at the bottom of the stairs, bumping it up to half brightness, so that it was still creepy, but he could at least see where he was going. “Gah! And pick up your damn torture and dismemberment devices! I’m not your maid!”

“Sorry, Bob,” some of the other torturers grumbled, quickly resuming their activities.

Garcia turned to the source of the voice she’d heard a moment ago. David Rossi lay tied to a weight-lifting bench, his shirt, face and and hair soaked.

“Penelope! Are you all right?!” he gasped.

“David! I’m fine! What about you?”

An unsub finished refilling a bucket from a wall faucet, then prepared to put a wet towel back over Dave’s face.

“No, please!” Dave cried. “Not again! Noo—”

Dave’s words turned to gurgles as the unsub waterboarded him.

Unsub Bob pressed his gun to Garcia’s back, urging her farther into the basement as she sobbed. She nearly slipped in a puddle of blood that flowed from the numerous shallow cuts in the skin of the large man chained to the wall.

“My chocolate love muffin?!”

“Baby girl?! What the hell are you doing here?!”

Garcia squealed and almost gave him a hug, but decided to just fist-bump one of the bleeding man’s cuffed hands, instead. “Same as you, schmoopy-poo! I got taken captive by an unsub!”

Derek broke into a wide grin.

“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?!” he and Penelope said simultaneously, then broke into laughter.

“Garcia. Morgan. A little decorum, please?” The voice came from a locked-shut wooden coffin on the floor, near the wall opposite Morgan. A slit was cut into the lid above where the occupant’s face lay.

Penelope hurried over and peered down through the hole. Hotch’s eyes and eyebrows were visible, the rest of his face hidden. “Yes, Sir,” she squeaked. “Sorry, Sir. Um, can I get you anything? Some water, maybe?”

“No, thank you. My captor will be back soon, and hopefully he’ll let me out for a bathroom break. Until then, I’d better not eat or drink anything more.”

Morgan grunted as his unsub began making more shallow cuts, along his legs this time. Rossi vomitted water he’d inadvertantly swallowed, then went into a coughing fit.

Bob, exasperated, caught up to Penelope and again guided her forward. “We’ve got the section all the way in the back corner, on the right.” When they arrived, he offered her a chair, then tied her tightly to it, her wrists fastened to the chair’s arms and her ankles fastened to the chair’s legs. “Okay, let’s see here...” He picked up an iPad and hacked into the FBI’s servers to access Garcia’s personnel file. “Oh, is this your first time?” he asked in surprise.

“Yup. I’m a torture-virgin.” She hung her head. “I’ve been shot, though.”

“Good, good.” Bob spent a few moments skimming. “You’re a former vigilante hacker. Your parents died in a car accident... Cool, cool.” A few more moments. “Oh, you like kittens and puppies!”

Garcia cheered up. “O-M-G, yes!”

Bob’s eyes became sinister. “I like them, too. For breakfast!”

Penelope couldn’t speak over the lump in her throat. Oh god, what kind of monster was this?

“Kittens and puppies, while high in protein, do not contain much in the way of carbohydrates, which is what the human body needs, upon waking, to jump-start its metabolism,” a helpful voice chimed in.

In the corner opposite, Dr. Spencer Reid sat, completely naked on a filthy, bloodstained mattress. He was hugging his legs to himself and rocking back and forth, his eyes haunted. “The addition of whole-wheat toast or a high-fiber cereal would help you start the day off right.”

Bob sighed heavily, not turning to face the younger man. “ _Thank you,_ Dr. Reid. How long until your captor gets back and puts that ball-gag back in?”

Reid retrieved his watch from the floor. “Eight minutes, assuming average traffic.” He began to tremble as realization dawned on him. “Which means that in approximately twelve minutes he’ll put me over his knee and spank me again.”

“Don’t worry, Spence! JJ and Emily will find us!” Garcia assured him.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Hotch yelled from his coffin. “All of us have been captured by and are being held by different unsubs, each with different motives and different profiles. That’s why it’s taking so damn long for anyone in the BAU to find us.”

“But... Why are we all being held in the same place?” Garcia wondered.

“Real estate, sugar doll,” Morgan answered, shuddering from the pain of another cut from his unsub’s knife. “There are so many unsubs keeping people as captives these days that the rent on houses with basements has gone through the roof.”

More of Rossi’s watery vomit splashed across the floor and he gasped for air after another near-drowning. “The unsubs... have had to... pool their resources...” He coughed several times. “And live as... housemates.”

Bob slammed his fist on a workbench. “ENOUGH! It’s hard to stay in the right frame of mind with you all bantering and offering emotional support, and balancing each others’ strengths and weaknesses all the time. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a boner when your torture victim gathers strength from the presence of their friends?”

There was silence for a few moments, except for the sounds of Morgan’s blood dripping on the floor and a small fart emanating from Hotch’s coffin.

Spencer timidly raised his hand. “My unsub doesn’t seem to have a problem in that area, unfortunately.”

Bob took the purple high heel from Garcia’s right foot and threw it at him. “Shut. Up.” He took a deep breath and slowly released it, clearing his mind and getting back into the right headspace.

He uncoiled a set of jumper cables and attached the clamps at one end to a car battery. “Penelope Garcia. You’re the heart of the BAU, the one who brings light into the darkness of your coworkers’ dreary work.” He touched the clamps at the other end together, creating an arc and a scary-sounding zap. “Now I’m going to light _you_ up.” He slowly brought the clamps closer to Penelope’s cleavage, enjoying her terrified whimpers.

A crash from upstairs. “GOD DAMN IT, BOB! DO YOUR FUCKING DISHES AND GET THESE OUT OF THE SINK!”

Bob dropped the jumper cables and ran to the base of the stairs, shouting up to the kitchen. “I DID MINE THIS MORNING!”

“THEN WHAT ARE THESE DOING HERE?” the voice from upstairs asked.

“THOSE MUST BE DARYL’S DISHES FROM LUNCH,” Bob explained. “HE MADE HAMBURGER HELPER. MAKE HIM DO IT!”

Spencer’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Please make Daryl do dishes before he comes downstairs!” he pleaded. “Make him do so many that he gets tired and just wants to sleep!”

The unsub who was carving a sudoku game into Morgan’s thigh paused. “Wait, he made Hamburger Helper? With the meat that was in the meat drawer?!” He threw down his knife and stomped his way upstairs. “If he used my ground-up census worker, I’m gonna fucking kill him...”

More flatulence from Hotch’s coffin, louder this time. “Could someone _please_ get the key and let me out? Just for a few minutes?”

Rossi’s unsub turned off the water faucet and went over to the coffin. “Where does Greg keep the key?” he asked the man inside.

“How should I know? I can’t exactly see where he puts it from in here. Can’t you use a screwdriver or something and remove the metal part that the lock is attached to?”

“Luis, you know the rules about being nice to someone else’s victim,” Bob scolded.

Luis scoffed. “Do you _really_ want piss and shit to just sit in this coffin with this guy for days, stinking up the whole basement? You know how often Greg cleans anything—Exactly never.”

“Christ, you’re right,” Bob agreed. “Let’s go find something to open it up. I think Daryl keeps a toolbox in the breakfast nook.”

The two men went upstairs, leaving the five BAU members to themselves and their thoughts.

After a few minutes, Rossi coughed again. “So... The empty area across from me, next to Hotch. With the weed-eater, over there. That’s unsub Bill’s section, right?”

Affirmative murmurs in response.

“Ten bucks says Emily is held captive over there by Tuesday,” Rossi offered.

“Oh, you’re on!” Derek said. “By Monday, for sure.”

“I think it’ll be JJ, by Thursday.” Hotch’s voice was strained, as he struggled to hold in another fart.

Reid was thoughtful for a moment. “Wait—I’ve been held captive for so long, I’ve lost track. What day is it, Garcia?”

“Christmas.”

The End


End file.
